Wurly said, “No. Most ships that stop here are colony ships, on their way to colonize new planets. A certain percentage of technological societies severely damage their own planets before they become mature enough to understand the damage they are doing. In the past, a number of species have gone extinct before they achieved interstellar flight because of that damage, usually through runaway biological warfare or atomic warfare, with its consequent radiation poisoning. Those that do manage to survive despite badly damaged planetary ecosystems often look for a place to begin again to assure species survival. Planetary systems are quite common, although those that fit specific biological niches and that are not yet inhabited by advanced sentient creatures are not. Therefore, colony ships. Precise statistics are not available because of potential sampling error but it appears that between fifteen and twenty percent of advanced star-faring civilizations will sponsor at least one colony ship.”
Stuyvesant asked, “Why would they stop here? It can’t be to pick up antimatter: they would have done that at their home system and they’d already be traveling as fast as it’s possible to travel with any given technology….”
Wurly said, “No, the primary purpose for stopping is to restock supplies of consumables. Even with advanced recycling systems, some material is eventually lost and so stops are necessary. Water, for example—it would be possible to take along enough water to replace that lost on a multi-century flight, but that would add hugely to the mass that needs to be moved. The antimatter here is used simply to get them back up to traveling speed. The actual stop is made to restock consumable supplies harvested from the planetary rings.”
Clover said to Stuyvesant, “Saturn’s not just a recharge station. It’s a convenience store.”
Emwiller, Crow, and the comm tech came back, and Emwiller said, “We’re gonna have to fab an interface to one of several possibilities suggested by the station, and the station will provide a constant-broadcast link back to the Nixon. We can’t do it here. The most important thing we can get out of here will come over the I/O connection, so we need to head back.”
Sandy asked the jukebox, “Wurly, could you direct us to the trade computer?”
“Yes, it is down the hallway number 2, opening to your right.”
Sandy said to Emwiller, “We’ve got two guitars, a bass, and an amp with us. I think we should take the time to get them evaluated.”
Clover said: “Stuyvesant and I have lots more questions, and Hannegan, too…. Every minute brings up amazing stuff. Give them time to talk to the trade computer.”
Crow said, “I’d like to look around some more, anyway.”
Emwiller nodded: “Okay, but if it’s gonna take a while, if it’s like a DMV or something, you gotta be willing to cut it off so we can head back.”
The evaluation didn’t take long. The trade computer was parked in a short dead-end hallway, and when they approached, it asked, in Wurly’s voice, “Trade items for evaluation?”
“Yes.”
“Please provide a simple description.”
“Three musical instruments operated by vibrating strings which cause sound waves in gaseous atmospheres, and an electronic amplifier, powered by a battery.”
“These are somewhat common instruments, but have some value, as well,” the computer said. “Can you demonstrate their function?”
“Yes. It’ll take a minute to plug in…”
They plugged in, and Martinez said, “We oughta go with our best number.”
Crow: “‘Yellow Dog Blues’?”
“That’s what we got.”
Sandy, “Okay, ‘Yellow Dog Blues,’ let’s do it right: Everybody ready? Uh-one, anda-two, anda…”
“Yellow Dog Blues” lasted two minutes and nine seconds and when they finished, the computer said, “How many units of the instruments and the amplifiers can you deliver?”
“How many do you want?”
“Seventeen. For seventeen units, each unit consisting of three instruments and one amplifier, we will award you two-point-five points. Eight points is the maximum we may allow.”
“Two-point-five? Shit, you’re a tough audience. Okay, you got a deal,” Sandy said.
Crow: “Seventeen units—is that in base 8, or base 10?”
The computer said, “Base 10. When communicating with you, all numbers are in base 10.”
At the jukebox, Emwiller asked, “I think we understand the rules by which this depot operates, but what happens if someone breaks them? For example, what if a ship tries to take more than its share of goods or insists on approaching a depot when another ship is docked here?”
Wurly said, “The depots have some defenses. While you would find them overwhelmingly effective, most species that can build starships could overcome them. The network relies on disincentives. If a ship knowingly violates the rules of conduct, that information is propagated over the network to the security systems on all the depots. For some period of time, access to those depots is denied to other ships belonging to that species. The length of time depends upon the seriousness of the violation.”
Emwiller persisted, “But what if some species ignored those denials and took what they wanted by force? What would prevent them from doing so?”
The answer-bot flashed silver, red, and lavender. “I do not know of any such occurrence. There’s nothing in my historical records to indicate that that has ever happened, although those only go back 21,682 years. Also, I cannot find any information that would constitute a useful reason for this to happen. Essentially, it would require disabling a depot to overcome its defenses, rendering it useless for any future visits.”
Emwiller started to ask another question, but Clover interrupted. “I think I get it. Destroying a depot to get what you want, when it gives stuff away freely, would be killing a goose that laid the golden eggs. You could, if you’re shortsighted.” He stopped, thought for a moment. “I wonder, can a species that embarks on multi-century voyages be shortsighted? Good question…” He looked off, lost in thought.
“John!” Emwiller snapped.
“Ah, yes. I was saying… you could do that, but then the sanctions would kick in, and your only options would be to cooperate or to continue to kill the geese. Mass goosicide eventually takes down the network, and then where are you for interstellar travel? Besides which, at sub–light speeds, this would take millennia, maybe hundreds of millennia. How many species have policies that are stable—and homicidal—for that long?”
“The only reason that could make sense for doing this would be to force policy, to blackmail the trading system into doing what you want or risk further destruction. But there’s no one making policy! The depot network just does what it does, following a set of preestablished rules. You can’t threaten it, because it lacks volition. It’d be like trying to threaten, oh, Sandy’s camera—‘Give me what I want or I’ll destroy all your fellow cameras, mwahahaha.’ Yeah, that’d work.” He laughed. It echoed deafeningly in the chamber.
Stuyvesant said, “So, basically, you’re saying that the system is stable and robust because it’s too simple and dumb to be broken?”
Clover nodded: “Yup. I think so. A primitive barter system, a really simple set of rules, and no system of flexible governance. I think you can ‘game’ it about as well as you can game a toaster.”
Sandy, Crow, and Martinez emerged from the side hallway without instruments: “We got two and a half points,” Sandy said. “It’s something. Let’s see what some of the commander’s tea and Clover’s booze”—Clover winced again—“will get us.”
43.
Fang-Castro poured two cups of tea and pushed one toward Crow. “Any change?”